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Ahlberg, Allan | Ahvenjärvi, Juhani | Angelou, Maya | Bakhtiar, Shireen | Beatty, Paul | Boland, Eavan | Brooks, Gwendolyn | Brown, Sterling | Bryant, Dana | Chapman, Tracy | Clifton Read, Lucile | Coleman, Anita Scott | Coleman, Wanda | Cullun, Countee | Dashiell, J.M. | Dove, Rita | Dylan, Bob | Evans, Mari | Gaines, Reg E. | Giovanni, Nikki | Goldbarth, Albert | Harper, Michael | Hayden, Chris | Hayden, Robert | Jordan, June | Lorde, Audre | Madhubuti, Haki R. | Mc Kenty, Bob | Moore, Richard | Reed, Ishmael | Salt'n'Pepa | Sayar, Keyvan | Scott-Heron, Gill | Shakur, Tupac | Sinervo, Helena | Stevens, Cat | Teasdale, Sarah | The Sugarhill Gang | Walcott, Derek | Walker, Alice | Walker, Margaret | Williams, Saul | Wyclef Jean | Young, Al
Cullun, Countee
The Wise
Dead men are wisest,
for they know
How far the roots of flowers go,
How long a seed must rot to grow.
Dead men alone bear frost and rain
On throbless heart and heatless brain,
And feel no stir of joy or pain.
Dead men alone are satiate;
They sleep and dream and have no weight,
To curb their rest, of love or hate.
Strange, men should flee their company,
Or think me strange who long to be
Wrapped in their cool immunity.
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Incident
Once riding in old Baltimore,
Heart-filled, head-filled with glee,
I saw a Baltimorean
Keep looking straight at me.
Now I was eight and very small,
And he was no whit bigger,
And so I smiled,
but he poked out His tongue,
and called me, "Nigger."
I saw the whole of Baltimore
From May until December;
Of all the things that happened there
That's all that I remember.
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